


Dressed to the Nines

by misura



Category: The Firm (TV)
Genre: Frenemies, M/M, Mild Kink, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-20 08:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17019642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Joey buys Mitch a suit.





	Dressed to the Nines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sandrine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/gifts).



Mitch wonders at which point getting kidnapped in broad daylight to try on a suit has become just another one of life's little annoyances, like discovering a spot on your tie or having your cell phone battery die on you when you want to make a call. (A regular, dime-a-dozen call, not a life-or-death one.)

He suspects it's the exact same moment Joey walked into his office, though the evidence for that is mostly circumstantial. Still.

"How's it look?"

The dressing room offers no obvious means of escape. Mitch isn't sure he'd have slipped out if it had, but he thinks it might have been nice to know the option's there.

As it is, "Well, there's no dead bodies, so that's good, right?"

Joey scoffs. Joey is entirely too casual when it comes to dead bodies, particularly dead bodies belonging to people who might have had useful information to share. 

Not that Mitch is any happier seeing dead bodies belong to perfect strangers. In fact, he'd be entirely happy never seeing a dead body ever again. Of course, as long as he keeps hanging around Joey - or rather: as long as Joey keeps hanging around him, that's not a wish likely to be granted.

"You know, my family's been going to this shop for over half a century," Joey says.

"Wow," Mitch says, hoping his tone conveys how much he cares. "That long, huh?"

"I'm just saying, it's a nice thing I'm doing for you here, Mitch. You should feel special. Honored."

_Respected,_ Mitch thinks, though at least Joey isn't enough of a hypocrite to use that word out loud. Mitch knows quite well how much Joey _respects_ him.

"What's next, dinner and a string quartet?" Mitch starts undressing, feeling like he's making a mistake, like he's become too used to this sort of thing, absence of dead bodies notwithstanding.

Joey chuckles. It's better than Joey losing his temper - or Joey deciding to act like he's lost his temper. "Is that how it was when you proposed to Abby?"

Mitch swallows his first reply. He should be grateful, he tells himself, that this ... thing is between him and Joey only, that it doesn't involve Abby or Claire or Ray. If keeping it that way means sometimes not saying what he thinks, well, he's a lawyer, isn't he? He does things like that all the time. It's called self-control.

_What happened to the Mitch McDeere who took down Noble? Oh, nothing. He's just trying on a suit bought for him by a mob boss._

"You about done in there?" Joey asks.

"Give me a moment." Mitch takes a look at himself in the mirror. It's not a bad suit. Good quality. Expensive. Double-breasted, of course. He looks like a mob lawyer. Arguably, much as he might dislike it, right now, he kind of is.

"How long does it take to put on a suit? What, it doesn't fit?" Joey apparently decides he's run out of patience.

Mitch wonders what might have happened if he really had been slow in getting dressed. The idea of Joey walking in on him half-naked is unsettling in a way the suggestion that Joey's had a man executed for threatening Mitch's life somehow isn't. "Do you mind?"

Joey slowly gives him a once-over. "Looks like it fits. Great."

"Why? Because it means you won't have to beat up the tailor before setting his shop on fire?"

Joey sighs and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Mitch. Mitch."

"Oh, sorry, did I hurt your feelings again? Maybe you shouldn't be buying me this suit, then. You know, as a punishment."

"I want to punish you, I can do better than that. A lot better," Joey says. "But hey. Come on. No need to be like that, eh? You did good. I told you, good work should be rewarded."

"With a suit." Mitch looks at their reflections in the mirror. Objectively, he looks good. Objectively, Joey looks good, too. Respectable, if you don't know any better. "A suit that tells everyone I'm working for the mob."

Joey grins, showing teeth.

Mitch meets his gaze in the mirror. "No."

"No?" Joey cocks his head. "No, what? No, you don't care I spent all this money and effort on getting you something nice to show you my appreciation?"

"I don't." Mitch's mouth feels just a little bit dry. "You know that."

"You're going to wear this suit," Joey says.

"Let me get this clear. You're threatening me to get me to wear a suit? This specific suit?"

"You think I'm bluffing?"

Mitch tries to sound calm, reasonable. "I think you've got bigger fish to fry right now than my wardrobe. I think this is a waste of both our time. I think - "

In addition to a lack of dead bodies, Mitch would also be delighted with a future lacking in guns. Especially guns pointed in his general direction by people who have already shot his law degree.

"I really was trying to do a nice thing, you know?" Joey says. "Be a nice guy. More of the carrot, less of the stick. All you had to do was shut up. You didn't even have to say 'thank you'."

" 'It's a lovely suit, Joey. Really, you shouldn't have.' How's that?" It's not even a lie, Mitch assures himself. He can say with 100% sincerity that he feels Joey should not have bought him the suit.

Joey nods, once. "Fine. Take it off."

Mitch waits.

Joey makes a 'get on with it' gesture with the gun.

Mitch rolls his eyes. "Seriously?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Joey grabs the chair Mitch has used to hang his clothes on and sits down.

Mitch turns his back, then realizes that he's turned his back on a guy who's holding a gun and who's threatened to shoot him several times. "It just seems a bit childish. A little immature."

The jacket's easy. The shirt - well, the shirt's no big deal, either.

When Mitch turns around to face him, Joey hasn't moved. He's still holding the gun. By now, Mitch is pretty sure he has no real intention of using it. "How about you put that away? We both know you're not going to shoot me. At least, not here and now," Mitch amends.

"Is that what we know? Is that what you think, Mitch? You think I'm not serious here? What, you think the people in this shop are going to talk to the police if they hear a gun shot?"

It doesn't take being an expert on organized crime to know the answer to that question. "Probably not."

"Probably not," Joey agrees, raising the gun to point at a spot just over Mitch's shoulder. "Now, I did something nice, and you threw it back into my face."

"Technically speaking," Mitch says, holding up the shirt. "Not into your face. Not even on the floor. I mean, it's a great suit. Good quality. Perfect fit. I - "

"You offended me," Joey cuts him off. "So now, because I like you, I'm going to give you one chance to make it up to me. One."

Mitch decides it's a good thing that he's still wearing his pants. Also, a bad thing - a very bad thing that when someone threatens him, it somehow registers as a turn-on. Admittedly, this time it's Joey, but if it starts happening with everyone else, too, Mitch might get into trouble.

Not that that would be anything new, exactly.

"You think that's funny?" Joey asks. He sounds genuinely pissed off now.

"Sorry," Mitch says, more or less automatically. "I just thought of something funny. I - sorry."

"Talk is cheap."

_Actually, people pay me a fair bit of money to talk._ Mitch breathes in. He wonders if Joey knows how badly Mitch wants this, needs this, almost.

Not so much the kidnapping and involuntary exposure to dead bodies and unwelcome gifts, but what it all leads to, sooner or later.

"You're sure the shop owner isn't going to talk? I mean, could be a bit embarrassing."

Joey offers him a half-smile. "I'm sure. But hey, if you're that worried, I guess I'll have to keep it quiet."

"You're assuming that you can."

"What can I say? Maybe you're not as good as you think you are."

Mitch decides not to dignify that with a reply. "This floor's clean, right? I don't want to get these pants dirty."

Joey shrugs. "You get them dirty, I'll buy them. I buy the pants, you wear the suit. Sounds like a win-win to me."

"Sounds like you trying to get out from under our deal to me."

Joey chuckles. "Our deal? What deal is that, Mitch? What, you think I'm going to let you walk around like I don't own you? Like you're not working for me? You think I can afford to look weak like that? Now?"

Mitch bites down on the bright suggestion that if that's how it is, maybe Joey should cut Mitch loose. It'd be good riddance, sure, but with everything that's going on, everything that's happened already - well, Mitch knows himself well enough to know that he cannot simply walk away. He never could before, after all, and this is no different.

The only difference is Joey, and Mitch can handle Joey.

"Fine. Clearly, you feel very strongly about this. We can talk about it - "

"Some other time, yes."

"Yes," Mitch says, slowly lowering himself to a kneeling position where he's looking up at Joey.

Joey's expression is hard to read. Not quite smug, Mitch thinks. Not quite like Joey's feeling he's the guy in control of the situation, even if he's the one holding the gun. Mitch likes that, even if part of him points out that handling Joey might have been a lot easier with Joey convinced of having all the power.

"You know, this floor might be clean, but I'm pretty sure you're still going to get your pants dirty."

Having a gun put against your head should not feel like this, Mitch thinks. Sure, the safety's off (probably) but it's still a dangerous weapon, used to kill at least two people Mitch knows of.

"Maybe," he says.

"I guess we'll find out soon enough, won't we?" Joey replies.


End file.
